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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359215">Special to Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePhantomsRose/pseuds/ThePhantomsRose'>ThePhantomsRose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phantom of the Paradise (1974)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:08:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePhantomsRose/pseuds/ThePhantomsRose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Winslow and Phoenix meet at a diner to discuss his cantata.  Afterwards, shenanigans ensue in the pouring rain</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Winslow Leach | The Phantom/Phoenix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Special to Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Winslow sat alone in the bright red booth of the diner, a lanky man dressed in a black turtle neck sweater and khakis; he drummed his long fingers against the table, which was slightly sticky from years of maple syrup and coffee spilled on it. The caramel-colored beverage in the white ceramic coffee mug in front of him had stopped billowing steam long ago and was most likely cold. His wide eyes occasionally glanced outside the window to his left, looking for someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He absentmindedly took a sip from the coffee, jolting back a bit at the unexpected temperature; sure enough, it was cold. Sighing, Winslow continued to gaze out the window, watching the raindrops race down the glass to keep himself occupied. Once he grew bored from watching the rain and the cars drive by, he pulled out his pocket notebook and decided he would write while he was waiting. Feeling around his other pockets, the pockets of his beige trench coat sitting beside him, and even behind his ear, pushing away his blonde locks, he realized he had forgotten to bring a pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxiously, Winslow looked around the diner and caught eyes with one of the waitresses. He flagged her down, and she came sauntering over, a bright smile on her ruby-red lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, hun, can I get you somethin'?" Her southern accent and hospitality shone through as she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Could I borrow a pen?" he asked, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I seem to have forgotten mine at home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress pulled a pen out from one of her apron pockets and set it down on the table. "Here ya go. Let me know if you need anything else, darlin'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow thanked her and then suddenly remembered that his coffee was cold. Before he could turn to ask for another cup of coffee, she had disappeared into the kitchen. Unwilling to call her over to his table again, the man resorted to sipping his cold coffee begrudgingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, as if the storm clouds in his mind parted to make way for sunshine, his blue eyes caught sight of her - Phoenix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow had met Phoenix in a record store downtown, where he was trying to convince the store owner to sell the records of his own cantata, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Faust</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had a buddy of his with a home recording studio and a record press in his garage, who was kind enough to let him record his songs and print them. Now all he had to do was get them on the shelves so that he could begin his journey of becoming Winslow Leach, the great composer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was torn away from his argument with the record store owner when he heard Phoenix singing along to the record she was testing in the store, headphones plugged into the player. Her voice was perfect, and it was just what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Faust</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow dismissed the store owner and carried his box of records away with him, making his way over to Phoenix to tap her on the shoulder. Phoenix spun around, startled to see the tall man behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excuse me," he began, "I couldn't help but overhear you from across the store. You have the most amazing voice I've ever heard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix had slipped the headphones down around her neck and looked up at him proudly. "Thank you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Listen, I'm a composer," Winslow explained. "I think your voice would be perfect for my cantata. I would be honored to have you sing my music."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised a curious eyebrow at the offer. Then, she cast a glance at the box of records beside Winslow's feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that your music?" She pointed to the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, um, yes! Would you like to hear some of it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was giddy with excitement as he took one out of its sleeve and placed it on the record player in front of Phoenix. He lifted the needle and set it to play the first track. Phoenix started nodding her head to the beat of the song, closing her eyes. He nearly melted when she began harmonizing with his own vocals on the record. She listened to the entirety of the first song, and when it was over, she took her headphones off once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd love to sing for your cantata, Mr...?" She trailed off, and the man realized he hadn't shared his name with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leach. Winslow Leach."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Phoenix," the girl had said, hanging the headphones back up and leaning against the record player. "Do you want to meet at the Riverside Diner tomorrow and discuss the cantata?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow was taken aback at her confidence and eagerness to work with him - it was undoubtedly his lucky day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Tomorrow is perfect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glass door opened with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ding</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the little bell that hung on top. She shook out her drenched umbrella and placed it in the rack beside the door. One Phoenix's eyes locked with his, she waved and made her way over to his booth, fixing her dark espresso hair while her boots clicked on the tile floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi Winslow," Phoenix plopped down in the seat across from him. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. The traffic was horrible, and this rain certainly didn't help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow glanced again at his cold cup of coffee and then back to Phoenix. "Don't worry about it. I don't have any other plans today, so I didn't mind waiting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix shot him a grateful smile. The same waitress who had given Winslow her pen earlier made her way back to their booth again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey sweetie, can I get you anything?" the woman's voice was just as cheerful and friendly, pulling out a notebook and pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, could I just get a coffee, please?" Phoenix requested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Make that two, please," Winslow added, shoving the old coffee away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course! Cream and sugar?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No thanks, just black coffee for me," Phoenix answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't take cream in your coffee?" Winslow inquired lightheartedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dairy isn't good for your vocal cords."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't know that," Winslow hummed thoughtfully, slightly surprised to have learned something new about music, something he had spent his whole life studying. "Just a black coffee for me as well," he nodded to the waitress, who whisked away his old mug and strutted off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two made small talk while they waited for their coffee, asking each other about their day, commenting on the damp weather, and making lighthearted jest at the city's traffic. When the waitress returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, they sipped the caffeinated liquid and continued chatting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, what is this cantata you've written about?" Phoenix changed the subject after taking a gulp of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you ever heard of the story of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Faust?" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, what is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's the story of a man who sells his soul for the love of his life," Winslow's blue eyes shone with pride as he delivered his spiel about his music. "My cantata is based around that story; it's the first of its kind!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That sounds interesting," Phoenix commented. "I really loved the sound when you played part of it for me at the record store. You composed </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> performed the entire thing all by yourself?" Her lips curled up in a smile, and her hazel eyes glimmered with pure marvel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Yeah, music has just always been the one thing I'm passionate about. Truthfully, I don't know what I would do without it." He paused to take another sip of coffee. "I'm honestly not super confident in my voice, but yours is just incredible. As soon as I heard you singing, I knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>Faust</span>
  </em>
  <span> would sound even better with your voice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix blushed as Winslow gazed at her with a sweet smirk on his lips. "You're not just saying that to be nice, are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I would never let my personal feelings interfere with my aesthetic judgment," he assured her, placing a hand on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What does that mean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It means I think you're terrific!" Winslow beamed a bit too loudly, causing a couple of diner-goers to stare in their direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They talked in that booth for hours; however, the time seemed to fly by. Winslow had never met anyone else as passionate about music as he was, and Phoenix adored his enthusiasm. The truth was when she first met Winslow in the record store that day, she had thought him handsome and was rather shocked to have been approached by him. The fact that he loved her voice so much as to want it on his record made her heart well up with pride. Phoenix was no eager-to-please girl who would sing for anyone who asked; she was a stubborn woman who only did something when she felt like it. Even though she had just met him yesterday, she knew Winslow was a good and honest man - his cantata deserved success, and if he believed that Phoenix's voice would bring out the best of it, then she also believed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's 8 o'clock already!" Phoenix gasped, looking at her wristwatch. "I've gotta get home and feed my cat. I really enjoyed talking with you, Winslow! I'll see you at your friend's studio next week!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix placed a couple of bills on the table to pay for her coffee. Winslow shoved them back towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh no, I insist that I pay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's only a couple of dollars, Winslow. I don't mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed the money away from her, and Winslow pouted defeatedly. He waited until her back was turned as she made her way towards the door before taking her money off the table. Winslow took cash out of his wallet and placed it on the table as payment. He vowed to return the money to Phoenix when he saw her next week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frustrated grumble from the front of the diner caught his attention. Winslow looked up to see Phoenix digging through the umbrella stand. She dropped her shoulders in defeat and looked outside, where rain was now coming down heavily along with the occasional boom of thunder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow stood up and approached her to find out what the matter was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix glanced up at him briefly before turning towards the umbrella stand. "Some bastard stole my umbrella," she cursed. "I'm parked several blocks down, and I'm gonna get soaked in this downpour."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow didn't bring an umbrella; however, he had his coat. He looked down at it, assured that it would be big enough to shield them both from the rain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll walk you to your car," Winslow offered, slipping the coat off his shoulders. "We can use my coat as an umbrella."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure?" Phoenix looked at the coat and then back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded with a grin. Phoenix chuckled nervously and ducked under Winslow's arm as he held the door open for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow held up his coat over both of their heads, stretching out his long arms as wide as they could go. The two walked side by side underneath his coat; Winslow kept having to slow his pace since his legs were much longer than Phoenix's. The walk was silent, except for the rain pounding on the asphalt and the sound of cars surfing by on the soaking street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crack of lightning split open the sky, followed by a roar of thunder. Phoenix jumped and clung onto Winslow's side, startled by the loud noise. She quickly realized what she was doing and pulled away just as swiftly as she had held onto him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I, erm, I'm sorry!" She fumbled over her words. "I got spooked by the thunder and-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's alright," Winslow assured her, secretly wishing she would have embraced him longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Winslow was walking, he couldn't stop looking down at Phoenix, absolutely breath-taken at how astonishingly beautiful and talented she was. He still couldn't believe that she was willing to provide her voice to his music; it all seemed too good to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for a moment, it was too good to be true because one moment Winslow was admiring Phoenix's beauty, and the next, he was face-planted onto the concrete. He must not have been looking where he was going and tripped over an unseen obstacle. Unfortunately for the both of them, since Winslow was holding up the coat, Phoenix came tumbling down with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow quickly hauled himself up from the wet pavement, extending a hand out to Phoenix to help pull her up. So much for the makeshift umbrella, because now they were drenched from the rain. Winslow picked up his now waterlogged coat and just held it up, dumbfounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix suddenly burst out laughing, and Winslow couldn't help but join her. They just stood there and laughed together in the pouring rain, no longer caring about getting wet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This has been a special day, Winslow," Phoenix said aloud once she caught her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Special?" Winslow echoed in surprise. "We're standing here getting soaked, and you think today is special?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's special to me," Phoenix crossed her arms over her chest, shivering from the cold rain. "Because you're special to me, Winslow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow responded wordlessly by hugging her tightly to his chest, trying his best to shield her from the cold rain, although in hindsight, this was rather pointless as he was just as soaked as she was. Nevertheless, he held her close, and Phoenix clung to him just as tightly. Winslow was the one who pulled away, looking down at Phoenix with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We ought to get dry, so we don't catch a cold!" He fretted, taking her hand as he started running in the direction of her car. Phoenix tried her best to keep up with Winslow's long strides, but she always seemed to fall behind, clinging onto his hand firmly so he wouldn't let go and leave her behind. Winslow noticed she was once again having a hard time keeping up with him, and he slowed to a light jog, which was slow enough for Phoenix to run beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got to her car, Winslow opened the driver's side door for her. Phoenix thanked him and slumped down on the seat, shoving her keys into the ignition and causing the car to start with a loud purr.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winslow waved her goodbye and started to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Winslow!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head to see her rolling down her window, calling him over with her hand. Winslow jogged over and leaned his head down to hear her. Phoenix placed her hands on the sides of his face and pulled him into a kiss. His brief shock only lasted for a moment before he kissed her back, resting his large hand on her jaw and caressing her cheek with his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phoenix gently broke the kiss and winked at him before driving off down the dimly light street. Winslow just stood in the middle of the street and watched her drive away until her car faded from sight. He brought his hand up to his lips and ghosted over them, fondly remembering the feeling of Phoenix's soft lips. She said that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was special to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Winslow murmured to himself. "It is you who are special to me, Phoenix."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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